


The Last Blues

by pthepolarbear



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Peterick, Procrastination is a bitch, Valentine's Day, i'll get better at tagging i promise, this is my first fic on here haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 21:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pthepolarbear/pseuds/pthepolarbear
Summary: Pete gets himself into a bit of Valentine's Day trouble, and Patrick is there to help. But, little do they know, it all leads to a bit more than either of them expected.





	The Last Blues

“Hi, mom.”

Pete held his phone to his cheek as he settled down on the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Hi, honey.” Pete grinned in spite of himself. His mom’s warm voice was always soothing to hear, no matter how worked up he was. “How are you, Pete? How’s the novel?”

He made a face, before remembering she couldn’t see him. He loved writing, he really did– sometimes he felt like he could write forever– but even he was not immune to the trials of writer’s block. The past week had been a mixture of smashing his forehead to the keyboard, late night movie binging with Patrick (partly for inspiration, mostly to help his quest to help Patrick understand every reference he made, no matter how obscure and no matter how much Patrick rolled his eyes at him), and sleeping. He chose not to disclose this to his mother, however. “The novel’s fine, mom. It’s– it’s good.”

“Great, sweetie,” she hummed. She wasn’t entirely thrilled when Pete decided to pursue writing instead of a more reliable career, but she still supported him through everything and he was grateful for that. “Anyway, the reason I called was to invite you to me and your father’s anniversary party! I sent you an email, but I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten it.”

Pete winced, thinking about the fact that he childishly hadn’t checked his email in a week to avoid the many emails from his editor. “Oh, right! I, er– I guess I didn’t see it.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I called you. It’s in 2 days, at our house.” Pete stood up and went to the calendar on his front door to check his schedule. He knew he could just use his phone, but he liked the novelty of ripping the months off of a wall calendar. It was the twelfth of February, so two days ahead would be the fourteenth. There wasn’t anything written for that day. “Yep, I’m free that day. It’s the fourteenth, right?” He paused for a second, something sounding familiar about the day. The fourteenth of February, or–

“Valentine’s day.” He stated. How typical of his family– he knew where he got his excessive cheesiness Patrick continuously complained about from. “Isn’t it romantic?” His mother gushed, and he could hear the smile in her voice through the phone. “Oh, speaking of romantic, the Petersons– do you remember the Petersons? Well, their daughter Lydia is going to be there, and I think you’d be lovely together!”

Pete winced. He did remember the Petersons, and their daughter Lydia. The thing he mostly remembered from the last time they had met was him trying at all costs to get away from her, her excessive flirting annoying after the first two minutes. This wasn’t the first time his mother had played matchmaker, either, each attempt ending up worse than the previous. He searched his mind frantically for an excuse.

“Oh, er– I, uh, can’t,” he swallowed. “Oh?” His mother questioned. “I mean– she’s great, got a great, uh, personality, but–” His mother interrupted him. “Wait– is there someone else?” Pete, elated that he didn’t have to come up with his own lie, latched onto that.

“Er- Yes!”

“Really? Oh, that’s great, honey. You were so down after Ashlee, I’m happy for you! Who is it?”

“Uh–” To be honest with himself, Pete hadn’t thought this far ahead. “It’s, uh, a surprise?”

“Oh,” She sounded disappointed. “Well, I’ll see them at the party, then.”

“Yeah!” The strangled words left his mouth and he cursed himself. God, how was he going to find a person to come with him in two days? He opened his mouth to take it back, say that he forgot, they couldn’t go that day, when his mom spoke, sounding rushed.

“Great! Listen, I am so sorry but I have to go, someone’s at the door. Good luck with your book, see you at the party!”

“Yeah, mom, listen, I–”

“I can’t wait to meet this mysterious person, Pete, I love you!”

“I love you too, but–” He was cut off by the beep of her hanging up. He stared down at the dial screen, the meaning of what he’d just done catching up to him. “Shit.” He walked back to the couch, heart racing. How the hell was he going to find someone in two days, and on Valentine’s day? He was in some deep shit.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing. Patrick, looking flushed from the cold outside, set his bag and keys down on the table. They weren’t technically roommates– Patrick had his own apartment– but he spent so much time at Pete’s they might as well be. He was grumbling about something Pete couldn’t hear as he went into the kitchen.

“Hey there, Lunchbox!” he called. Patrick nodded in his general direction, still grumbling.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the studio?” Patrick looked over at him, wrinkling his nose. “Nah, the session was good, it’s just the whole vibe today.”

Pete’s mouth twitched. “The vibe?”

“Yeah, like, everything is all lovey and romantic! It’s the time of year where single people are just bound to get sad,” Patrick passive-aggressively threw his disposable coffee cup, which was decorated with little hearts, into the trash can. He held up a finger. “Did you know that Valentine’s day is just a marketing ploy created by Hallmark?”

Pete laughed at him. “Yeah, I think I remember you saying that last year– oh, and the year before that.” Patrick rolled his eyes but grinned. “Shut up.” He sat down on the couch next to him. Pete punched him lightly in the shoulder. “You’re a grinch, ‘Trick.”

“That’s Christmas, idiot.”

“Ugh, you know what I mean.”

Patrick smiled, pushing his glasses up further onto his face. “So what have you been up to, O tortured artist?” Pete made a face. “My novel is going great– wrote a full two sentences today!”

Patrick shook his head. “You’re crazy, dude.”

Pete lounged back, setting his feet onto the ugly ottoman he’d somehow acquired (he could literally not remember where it had come from, and neither could Patrick. It was bright orange, and clashed with everything in the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out). “Oh, also, my mom called.”

Patrick smiled. “Aw, momma Dale. How is she?”

“She invited me to their anniversary party on the fourteenth.” Patrick made a soft “aw”. “Yeah, apparently this girl Lydia Peterson is going to be there, and she tried to set us up.”

“Wait, Lydia? Like crazy Lydia? The one that followed you around the entire night? The one you had to reject like 9 times?”

Pete grinned ruefully. “The one and only.”

“Shit, dude. What did you say?”

Pete cringed. “I panicked and lied and said that I was already dating someone. So now I gotta find someone who could come with me to their party and pretend to be dating me, under the notice of two days.”

Patrick shook his head, looking sorry for him. “Wow. Can’t you just say that they were busy?” Pete shook his head. “My mom would never believe that. I’m in so much shit.”

Patrick stood up from the couch and got his laptop from his bag on the table. “Well, I wish I could help man, I really do.”

Pete watched him go, an idea sparking in his head. What if… but would he agree to it?

“I have an idea.” He announced. Patrick almost dropped his laptop in reaction. “Uh oh,” Patrick scanned his face, looking apprehensive. “The last time we carried out one of your ideas you literally broke your arm.”

“This is a much better idea than climbing the roof at 3 in the morning, I promise.”

Patrick set the computer down lovingly on the table and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“What if you came with me?” Pete implored hesitantly, standing up from the couch.

Patrick looked confused. “Like, what? Like, together?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “No, we’ve never met before and are forced to make awkward conversation the whole night. Yes, together.”

Patrick’s brain seemed to click and he realized what Pete was implying. He opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. It seemed as though he was at a loss for words.

“C’mon, man, it’ll be fun! It would help me out so much, and we get to make fun of crazy Lydia together.” Pete was grasping at straws here, and he knew it. The color in Patrick’s cheeks got higher and higher as he stared at him.

“Absolutely not.”

Pete groaned, flopping back on the couch. “You hate Valentine’s day, what a better way to spend it then going to a party with your best friend? It’s like saying ‘fuck you’ to the holiday on its own.”

“Nope, I won’t. You’re crazy, you know that? Not to mention that the fact that we’re both dudes will probably freak everyone out.”

Pete grinned at him. “Exactly! That’s exactly the point. My mom knows my sexuality, so that’s not a problem, and I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to spring this bombshell on my aunt Susan for years!”

Patrick looked dumbfounded. Pete, realizing the path he was taking wasn’t working, changed tack at top speed. He stood up again and crossed over to where Patrick stood, putting on his best pathetic face, making his eyes big. “Please, Trick? You’re my only hope– I’ll owe you a favor?”

Patrick considered him. Pete added one last “please?” to add to the effect. Patrick let out a short breath. “You know what? Fine. And don’t think I’m doing this for you– I just don’t want you annoying me about it for months. Also, I happen to like Dale’s cooking.”

Pete let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughed incredulously. “Thank you so much, dude.” Not believing his luck, he laughed again and surged forward to hug Patrick.

Patrick stiffened, not expecting the contact, but eventually, Pete could feel him returning it. He pulled back and clapped him on the shoulder. Patrick sighed and shook his head. “You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

Pete didn’t say anything; instead, he just grinned at him and walked out of the room.

…

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Patrick said for the fifth time. It was two days later, the day of the party, and they were standing in front of Pete’s parent’s house, the sound of the party inside audible. He fidgeted, adjusting the hat on his head nervously.

“Relax, Patrick. It’ll be fine.” Pete readjusted his own hair as they walked up the front steps, running a hand through it. He was just as nervous as Patrick, to be completely honest, but he shoved it down. “We’ve got this.”

Patrick looked at him. “You owe me big time,” he said, and rang the doorbell, plastering on a smile.

Dale opened the door almost immediately. “Pete! How good to see you, honey.” Pete grinned genuinely at her. “Hi, mom.”

She squeezed his shoulders, smiling back warmly, before looking past Pete.

“And… Patrick!” She sounded confused.

“Always a pleasure, Dale.” Patrick greeted her, stepping up to stand beside Pete. Dale looked between the two of them, realization dawning on her face, her smile doubling in size.

“Please come in, boys, it’s freezing out here!” She stepped back to let them in. As she reached back to shut the door behind them, she whispered in Pete’s ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

Pete brows constricted. What did she mean by that? He’d definitely taken his breakup with Ashlee hard, she was probably just proud that he’d gotten over it. However, there was a little voice in the back of his head, suggesting that maybe she thought that he and Patrick would end up together the whole time. He quickly dismissed it though, he and Patrick were friends, anyone could see that. Just friends.

He smiled at her nevertheless as she pulled away. “We have food in the living room, and I’m sure that everyone will be excited to meet you, Patrick.” Patrick smiled politely at her as he removed his coat. She hurried off in the general direction of the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“See? Told you she’d be cool with it.” Pete took Patrick’s coat and hung it on the rack for him. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t as worried about her then about your famous Aunt Susan,” Patrick muttered back, taking a breath.

“Yeah? Well, fuck her.” Pete smirked at Patrick and offered his arm. Patrick rolled his eyes and pushed past him into the room.

They were met by a scene of about 20 people. Pete could see almost all of his immediate family present, as well as a couple of family friends– and yup, there was Lydia Peterson, who was currently involved with a conversation with his sister who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

His dad walked over to them. “Hey there, Pete.” Pete grinned. “Hey, dad! Congrats.” His dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, kid.” His eyes moved over to Patrick. “Hey there, Pat..?” Much like Dale, he looked confusedly at the two of them.

Pete took a breath, sharing a look with Patrick. It was now or never. “Dad? You know my boyfriend, Patrick.” HIs dad’s eyes widened, mouth silently tracing the word boyfriend. He quickly regained his composure, however. “Congratulations, you two!” Pete exhaled, grinning back at him. “Thanks, dad.”

They moved on, Patrick sticking close to his side. “I still think this was a bad idea,” Patrick said to him under his breath, as they walked past a gaggle of Pete’s teenage cousins. “Too late now,” Pete whispered back. “We’re in too deep already. Also, speaking of bad ideas,” he looked around, “here comes crazy Lydia.”

Patrick whipped his head around so quickly Pete was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. Sure enough, there she stood. A girl with (obviously badly dyed) beach-blonde hair and a bright red shirt with an almost alarmingly low neckline that said “I love you” in huge letters was making her way toward them. Pete grabbed Patrick’s arm and hastily tried to shuffle them away.

“Petey? Is that you?” Pete finally stopped his fruitless attempt at blending in the crowd, and made a repulsed face at Patrick before turning around and smiling at her. It made his face hurt. “Hi, Lydia,” he sighed. “How are you?”

She smiled at him. “Oh, I’m absolutely marvelous. I just went on a trip to Europe, and I just learned so much.”

Pete smiled politely at her as she told them about just how much she’d grown as a person since the trip. Patrick, next to him, was obviously trying not to laugh. He stepped on Patrick’s foot, silencing him.

She kept going. “Oh, but how are you?” She lowered her voice and readjusted her shirt. “Did you miss me?” She winked at him, and Pete heard Patrick let out a snort badly disguised as a cough. He took a steadying breath and grabbed Patrick’s arm.

“Have you met Patrick?” Patrick, not ready to be thrust into the spotlight, spluttered out a “hi”. Lydia looked slightly disappointed the conversation had been interrupted. “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” she said, judging Patrick quickly before turning her attention back to Pete. “Hey, so I know it’s a bit forward of me, but,” she started playing with his collar, much to his dismay, “I was wondering if you might want to come to the movies with me this Saturday? I think there’s a new superhero movie out, but I was also thinking we could maybe see,” she leaned in close as Pete made a ‘get me out of here why do you let me suffer like this’ face at Patrick, “Fifty Shades of Grey?”

“Alright,” Patrick interrupted them, dragging out the ‘a’. Lydia sprung back, glaring at him. “I think that’s quite enough. You’re flirting with my boyfriend, so I’d appreciate it if you’d back off and let him breathe for a second.”

Lydia’s mouth fell open. She looked at Pete, who grimaced at her. “B-boyfriend?”

Patrick crossed his arms in front of him. “You heard me.”

“You’re not gay,” she stated, ignoring Patrick, and as though she knew all the answers in the world– especially his sexuality. Patrick gave her a patronizing smile. “Actually, sweetie, I can verify that he does, in fact, like men.” He seemed to decide to abandon all pretense and wrapped an arm around Pete’s waist to add to the effect.

Lydia looked like a fish. Her mouth was opening and closing, and she seemed to be looking for something to say. Finally, she just harrumphed and stalked off. They watched her leave until she was out of sight, at which point Pete turned to Patrick, completely in awe. “Holy…” He shook his head, beaming at him.

Patrick grinned back at him. “You think it worked?”

“Totally! That was fucking incredible! Did you see her face?”

“Yes, I did. It was actually kind of fun, getting to yell at her. God, you did not exaggerate at all when you described her to me. She was like,” he gestured randomly with his hands, searching for the word, “just, such a bitch.”

Pete raised a finger. “I seriously owe you my life. You have saved my life, literally.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Don’t be overdramatic. It’s just a date.” He smirked evilly at him, before mimicking Lydia’s movements from moments earlier: touching his collar, and leaning and whispering softly in his ear, “to see Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Pete’s heart leaped up into his throat. When Lydia had done it, all he’d been focused on was how best to get away from her without simply leaning away. He’d been disgusted, repulsed, nothing about her gestures remotely enticing.

But Patrick. His low voice reverberated around his head, echoing between each ear, making his head spin. Where he was touching him felt like it had burst into flames. He felt a familiar swooping sensation in his stomach– and no. This was all wrong. He couldn’t– he shouldn’t–

“Stop,” he managed, and shoved Patrick away. Patrick laughed like nothing was wrong, and Pete tried his best to join in. Patrick’s smile faded as he looked at him, however. “Are you okay?”

Pete nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of his actions. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, grinning as genuinely as he could. Patrick squinted suspiciously. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Pete looked around desperately for a distraction– and yup, there it was, in the form of his Aunt Susan. “Don’t look now, but my aunt is on a path right toward us.”

Patrick groaned. “You don’t suppose it’s your other, actually nice aunt and not the one who will cause a scene?” Pete grimaced. “Nope.”

Patrick nodded. He leaned over so that only Pete could hear him and muttered, with a sly grin, “Let’s flip her world upside down.”

“Peter?” Her shrill voice echoed over to them. Pete winced at the use of his full name and closed his eyes, readying himself for the interaction and shoving down any last feelings of discomfort.

“Hi, Aunt Susan,” he sighed. She peered at him over the large rim of her (almost empty) wine glass. “You’ve gotten more tattoos, I see.” Pete smiled stiffly at her. “Yeah, I have.”

She made a “tsk” sound. “You’ll regret them, mark my words.” Pete sighed inaudibly, trying to rearrange his face so that his smile seemed less pained. “Yes, Aunt Susan. I’m sorry for just trying to express myself.”

She started, before recollecting herself and smiling tautly at him. “I also see you haven’t gotten any taller. Such a shame.” Before Pete could react in outrage to this cutting remark, she turned her attention on Patrick, beside him. “And who’s this, Peter?”

Pete shared a furious look with Patrick, who looked resolutely at his aunt. “Hi, my name’s Patrick.” She nodded. “Susan. I’m his aunt.” Patrick nodded, glancing at Pete. “Pete’s told me a lot about you.”

Susan nodded, squinting her eyes at him. She appeared to be scanning him. “Who are you? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh,” Patrick grinned mischievously at Pete. Here we go, he thought. “Pete hasn’t told you? We’re–”

He was interrupted by Pete’s dad raising his voice above the din. “Dinner is now being served, if you all would come into the dining room to grab a plate.”

His aunt looked up hopefully. “I’ve got to go,” she announced, and abandoned the conversation, crossing the room to talk to his dad and leaving Patrick mid-sentence.

Pete groaned, watching her leave. “Dammit, we were so close.”

Patrick sighed. “You know what?” He re-adjusted his hat, making a face at Pete. “I still hate you for making me do this.” Pete nodded seriously. “Naturally.”

“But this is honestly kind of fun.” He grinned at him. “I get to play the protective boyfriend card for once, and we get to give the terrible people in your family the shock of their lives.”

“See?” Pete shoved him playfully. “I told you it wouldn’t be that bad.” Patrick laughed and rolled his eyes. “Remember, I still hate you.”

“Duly noted.”

…

The rest of the evening passed with a surprisingly low number of incidents. Lydia seemed to be avoiding the two of them now, which was not something they were complaining about, and they didn’t run into Aunt Susan much more. It wasn’t until the very end of the evening when things seemed to go downhill.

Pete’s mom stood on an ottoman, clinking a knife against her glass to get everyone’s attention. Most of the people in the room were finished with their second drink by now, and that did not exclude Patrick, whose cheeks were a faint rosy color. He had arm slung around Pete’s waist (he’d gotten more and more affectionate as he got more comfortable), and was laughing quietly at a joke someone around them had made.

“Yes, well, everybody, thank you for coming!” Dale clasped her hands together and smiled out at the group. “It’s such a pleasure for us to celebrate our anniversary together with all of you. You’ve helped us so much, all of you. It’s so fitting that our anniversary should lie on Valentine’s day, a day of love, no matter if you have a partner or not.”

Patrick grumbled quietly next to him. “Valentine’s day is no fun single, everybody knows that.” Pete shushed him, grinning as he remembered their similar conversation a few days earlier.

“–and so that’s why I’m giving this toast to love. Whether it’s an old love, weathered with age but still strong, or a new love, fire and passion still new. Here’s to all the different kinds of love, none each one different but still worthy.”

The room filled with clapping as Dale stepped down from her perch on the ottoman. Couples around them were hugging, kissing, laughing, and he and Patrick shared a look.

“Do you think we should…” Pete trailed off and gestured at the couples around them, hyper-aware of his parent’s gaze on his back. Patrick looked at him for a moment, thinking. He finally nodded at him, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, fuck it.”

“Yeah?” Pete repeated, heart speeding up (purely out of nerves from kissing your best friend. Purely).

Patrick put a hand on Pete’s cheek. Pete, feeling the gazes of the people around them, took a deep breath, and leaned in.

Cliche. It was so cliche. Pete hated himself for it, but when their lips met, all he could think about was the feeling of fireworks going off on the fourth of July. His stomach jolted, and everything clicked. The way he always hated seeing Patrick leave to his own apartment, the odd urge to kiss Patrick after a night of drinks and dancing and loud music. It all made sense now– the feelings he had for Patrick were far from platonic, and it was finally clear to him.

He forced himself to pull back, and looked around. About half of the guests were staring at them, including Lydia, his Aunt Susan (who looked as if she were about to have heart palpitations), and his parents, who were beaming. Patrick coughed uncomfortably next to him, and Pete was forcibly reminded that right, this wasn’t real. He and Patrick weren’t actually dating, and he couldn’t kiss Patrick like that in real life for no reason other than that he wanted to.

The room suddenly felt suffocating. “I– I have to go to the bathroom,” he stuttered out to Patrick, who looked at him, confused. “Are you okay?”

Pete didn’t answer him and backed away, breath speeding up. Patrick took a step forward. Pete shook his head once before speed walking out of the room and into the hallway. He kept going until he found the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He collapsed onto the toilet, still breathing heavily.

This was all wrong. This wasn’t supposed to have happened like this. Why, why had Pete even thought this was a good idea? He and Patrick were friends, good friends, best friends– and he had to go and fuck it up, just like Ashlee, and everything else in his life. Of course he did. Because that’s all he was good for, wasn’t it? Patrick would probably hate him for this, and he’d lose him too. He was a fucking liability– not just to everyone he came in contact with, but to himself.

A knock on the door interrupted his stream of self-hatred, and he froze. “Pete?” Patrick’s voice sounded through from the other side. “Pete, are you okay?”

After a moment, Pete choked out a “no”. Patrick cursed from the other side. “Do you want me to come in?”

Pete didn’t answer him, just sat back on the toilet seat. A moment passed. “Okay, fuck it, I’m coming in.”

Pete heard Patrick open the door, and did his best to steady his breathing. He looked up from his hands just in time to see Patrick close it again behind him.

To his credit, Patrick didn’t say anything about Pete’s distraught appearance. Instead, he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bathtub next to him.

Neither of them spoke. Pete pressed his palms to his eyes, focusing on his breaths. In and out. In and out.

“Was I really that bad of a kisser?” He finally asked softly, nudging Pete on the shoulder. Pete coughed out a laugh, or whatever the closest thing to a laugh that he could manage at that moment was. “No, no, it’s not that.” In and out.

“Well, then what was it?” Patrick searched his face. “Was it too weird? I’m sorry, I kinda got too into the whole game we were playing I didn’t think, so if it made you too uncomfortable then I’m sorry.” Pete sighed, looking back at his hands. “I-it wasn’t really that, either.”

He bit his lip, looking at the wall in front of him. In and out. “I’m about to say something very stupid,” he announced.

“Uh, go for it, I guess,” Patrick said, though he looked slightly apprehensive.

“I–” Pete steadied himself. He stalled, rubbing his hands together. “Did you try the chicken? I thought it was–“

Patrick interrupted him. “Just tell me, Pete, I–“

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There was a beat of silence, in which neither of them made a sound.

“W-What?” Patrick’s voice shook slightly.

Pete didn’t look at him, instead focused squarely on the patterns decorating the wall in front of him. In and out. He barged ahead. “I like you. A lot. I like kind of sharing an apartment, I like watching movies with you, I like the way you blush when you’re angry, I like the way you go along with my stupid, idiotic adventures at 3 am when I can’t sleep. I really, really liked kissing you. Fuckin’ fireworks, or whatever. Which is why I freaked out.”

Pete snuck a glance at the other boy. Patrick was white-faced and staring at him with an unreadable expression. Another beat of silence passed. “God, I fucked up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, can we just forget this even happened, none of this happened, okay?”

Patrick was still staring at him. Pete searched his face for any hint for what he could be thinking about. “God, say something, please.”

Patrick, still not breaking eye contact, took a deep breath and let it out again. “You– think you might love me?” Pete bit his lip and nodded. “That– but–“ He ran a hand through his hair, crumpling it. “Pete, I think I’m in love with you, too.”

The earth seemed to stop spinning. Pete stared at him, barely processing his words. “Are you kidding? Because if this is a joke–“

“It’s not! It’s not. I promise.”

Pete laughed incredulously, feeling slightly hysterical. Their eyes met.

Pete put a hesitant hand on Patrick’s cheek. “Can I…”

Patrick chuckled. “God, what are we, fourth graders?” Pete rolled his eyes, secretly glad that they were joking around still. At least this was familiar territory. “I’m trying to be thoughtful, idiot.” Patrick shook his head, laughing softly.

Pete continued on. “For real this time, though?” Patrick nodded. “Yeah. For real.”

He leaned forward so that their noses touched, connected their lips, and suddenly they were the only two people in the whole world. Almost immediately, Patrick brought his hand up to Pete’s neck, deepening the kiss. It was fiery, fast, made up of longing and euphoria, both of them trying desperately to ground themselves, immortalize the moment. It was the feeling of a deep, suppressed fantasy come to life, and they were trying to prove to themselves and the world that it was actually happening.

Finally, after an inscrutable amount of time, Pete reluctantly pulled back. “We should probably head back out there, they’re gonna be wondering where we’ve gone.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re right,” he laughed. “I forgot that we left them right after that bombshell.”

Pete stood up off the toilet seat and held a hand out to help Patrick up. After a moment of struggling to get up off the bath’s rim, Patrick took it.

Finally they successfully made it to the door, Pete never letting go of Patrick’s hand. Patrick took a deep breath as he stared at the faded paint. “You ready?”

Pete nodded resolutely. He smiled at Patrick. “Thank you,” he squeezed Patrick’s hand. Patrick gave him a small smile back. “Let’s get this done with.”

They arrived back in the living room. Pete’s mom came up to them first, a worried look on your face. “Are you okay? You looked freaked out back there.”

Pete grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Great, actually.” He squeezed Patrick’s hand again. HIs mom smiled warmly at them, relieved. “That’s good.”

She excused herself to go and talk to someone else. Almost immediately after, they were approached by Pete’s aunt Susan.

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the THIRD!” She said shrilly, causing Patrick to burst into badly-stifled laughter. “Your full name,” he gasped quietly, out of earshot, “she used your full name!”

Pete bit his lip to keep himself from laughing along and raised his head to meet his aunt’s furious gaze. “Aunt Susan,” he replied. She took a step forward, before spotting their interlocked hands. “H-how dare you,” she began, her voice shaking with anger, “decide to take part in– in this monstrosity?”

Pete smiled humorlessly at her. “Firstly, it’s not a choice, not a conscious decision I made. Secondly, if it was a choice, it would be one I’d gladly make just to piss off people like you.”

Her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head. She seemed too enraged to speak. Pete decided to take it a bit farther, just for the hell of it. He wrapped an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “This is Patrick, the man I choose to be with. There’s nothing wrong with that, just like how there’s nothing wrong with this.”

He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Patrick’s lips (for the third time that night). Susan gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart and backing away.

“You’re both sinners, and will most definitely go to hell.” And, with that, she turned and walked away, into another group of people.

“See you there, bitch!” Pete called after her, Patrick’s hand over his mouth just a second too late. Multiple people’s heads turned in their direction.

Patrick groaned exasperatedly at him. “Okay, on that note, I think it’s time to go.”

They said their respective goodbyes, Pete telling his parents that yes, he’ll call soon and no, he wouldn’t forget to eat, and finally they were free. Pete nudged Patrick as they walked back to the car, their breath coming out in a fog in front of them.

“See?”

Patrick looked over at him, confused. “See what?”

“I told you it wouldn’t be that bad.”

Patrick laughed at him. “I still can’t believe I said yes to that.” Pete poked him. “It’s fate, Tricky!”

“Maybe,” Patrick said as they arrived in front of the car. “I still hate Valentine’s Day, though.” Pete laughed as he opened the car door.

“Sure you do!”

**Author's Note:**

> It's still Valentine's Day for 5 more minutes, right? God, procrastination is a bitch, haha. Anyway, I hope you liked it! This is pretty much unedited, as I am exhausted, so I might go in later and make a few changes here and there. That being said, this fic has been very fun to write– literally one of my favorite tropes of all time. This is also my first fic on here, so I'm still learning the ropes– I suck at summaries, sorry about that. 
> 
> This is for the Peterick Valentine's day challenge organized by sn1tchesandtalkers (whose fics I love and admire so this is super cool). I'll try to post more fics in the future, I have a lot of ideas (that I'm bad at carrying out, but if you have ideas or suggestions for me please don't be shy to tell me). 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading, and I hope you all had a lovely valentine's day that didn't make you feel too dead inside :)
> 
> -Peter
> 
> (Edit: I changed the title, turns out someone already had this one lol)


End file.
